In a graveyard there is nothing else:
Plastic flowers in a chintzy vase,
Paper airplanes touching
Down across her face:
Nothing else left in a graveyard left to say,
Even though the plastic roses are
Pulling up the ants—the ants—the ants—
Before the hurricane,
And the rest of the world so busily gets
Up—and up—and up:
And I cannot remember where I have yet
To find you—
And all of the rest of it feelings like a playground
Lost in a daydream—
But soon all of your busses will be coming home,
And you will step oh so light footed
Outside the tomb—the tomb-
The tomb.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
like this one a lot... your images of both sides of the veil are vivid... and a hint of sadness,